


A Tub and a Bar of Soap

by armouredescort



Category: Castlevania (Cartoon), 悪魔城ドラキュラ | Castlevania Series
Genre: Bathing/Washing, Gen, Sharing Clothes, medieval hygiene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-13
Updated: 2017-07-13
Packaged: 2018-12-01 14:35:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,130
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11488392
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/armouredescort/pseuds/armouredescort
Summary: Sypha and Alucard agree that Trevor needs a bath. The problem is, Trevor only has one set of clothes, so Alucard....obtains a new set.





	A Tub and a Bar of Soap

The thing about Trevor's good tunic was that it was his _only_ tunic. It had also passed the stage of "a little smelly but no worse than the locals" and into "can practically see the stench coming off it in alcoholic fumes" quite a while ago. In fact, the only time Sypha had seen Trevor bathe was a splash of water to the face whenever they stopped at a river to refill their waterskins. So when their ragtag team showed up at the next tavern approximately a week after they had hit the road, Alucard immediately ordered a tub of hot water and a washing bucket, glaring at Trevor when the man tried to protest. One bath would buy enough alcohol for weeks.

"It's better spent on a bath than on your drinking habit," said Alucard, cooly.

The tavern keeper eyed them off, expecting trouble. He didn’t step between them, instead leaning over to the brewster, and whispering something in her ear.

"We will bathe first," said Sypha. "And then you."

Trevor and Alucard were booted from the room while she bathed, and headed downstairs to find some dinner, even though the sun was rising. Trevor ordered a bowl of stew and a stein of ale. He very resolutely didn't think about how Alucard was eating that day, especially since the brewster seemed to be enjoying herself as Alucard chatted with her across the counter. Alucard hadn't explicitly killed anyone for food, but that didn't mean Trevor wanted the details.

When Sypha came down for her own bowl of broth and ale, she was wearing a simple tunic in faded green, different to her usual Speakers' robes. Trevor felt a slight panic start to crawl into his throat, the same kind of panic that usually signalled the derision of his companions. He hadn't seen Alucard pack anything other than his coat and his sword, so maybe he had nothing to change into either?

Alucard disengaged from his flirting and went upstairs. The brewster watched him, a dreamy look on her face as she served the other patrons. Swallowing the last of his ale, Trevor stared into his stein and wondered if he could sneak another one without Sypha noticing.

"Don't even think about it," said Sypha.

Damn. Trevor put on his best innocent face, scraping the last of the stew from his bowl.

"We agreed that you fight better sober than you do drunk. We also agreed that you could have one ale a day," she continued. "So don't try anything or I'll boil you in the tub."

"Two ales is hardly enough to get me drunk," protested Trevor.

"I will not budge. One leads to two leads to three leads to a whole barrel and then a compromised position if we're attacked during the day."

"Just because Alucard can't protect himself during the day, it doesn't mean I can't," Trevor said.

He stood and took his bowl and stein back to the counter, and then slunk upstairs under Sypha's watchful eyes. Alucard had to be done by now. Trevor knocked to be polite – he wasn't entirely ignorant of manners, he had grown up in a family full of manners – and entered when Alucard replied.

The dhampir was wiping himself down with the softest, fluffiest, and whitest piece of cloth that Trevor had ever seen.

"The water is still hot," said Alucard. "Thanks to Sypha and her magic."

He dropped the cloth, the fabric vanishing as clothes seemed to materialise over Alucard's skin. Alucard's cloak and Sypha's robes were drying in front of the fire.

"It shouldn't be too dirty, either, although with you it would be an improvement even if the tub was full of mud," said Alucard.

"It's more likely to be full of snakes after you were in it," said Trevor.

He didn't bother waiting for Alucard to leave, but instead started to strip off where he stood. A right fuck you to the vampire. Although he would never usually strip in front of a vampire, Trevor figured that Alucard could fucking deal with it. The door was right over there if nudity made Alucard uncomfortable. 

Knuckling down, Trevor started to scrub his tunic, kneeling by the laundry bucket. If he did his laundry first, it might be dry before he finished washing. He grimaced as the dirt came out and wondered if he'd have to order another bucket from downstairs.

At least the room was warm, the curtains drawn on the small window to keep the sunlight out, and the fire crackling away in a blaze.

Alucard sat on his bed, watching Trevor carefully. His hair was still damp, perfect for the comb running through it as Alucard carefully styled it over his pointed ears. Then it dried suddenly, some vampire magic leaving it silky with the barest hint of waves at the bottom.

"You don't have spare clothes, do you?" asked Alucard.

Trevor kept scrubbing. At least some of the pieces were dyed leather and metal, and he could wipe them down with a rag and some oil. Answering Alucard would bring about a snarky exchange he was too tired to bother with.

Instead Trevor hung his washing from the line strung across the room and slipped into the tub. He sighed, the water easing into his muscles. It wasn't that he didn't like bathing, it was just that he so rarely had the coin to do so. Or rather, the motivation to bathe over drinking. With Sypha and Alucard as his companions, it was a different story.

Alucard had grown up with a doctor for a mother, and a man of science for a father. Unlike civilians, he knew that bathing was not dangerous, but in fact helpful for the body’s health. Sypha was raised in a similar manner, the Speakers figuring out their own traditions.

"Belmont, it is rude not to answer," said Alucard.

"Everything burnt down in the estate,” said Trevor.

“I see.”

Alucard strolled over to Trevor’s clothes. He picked up one of Trevor’s boots, and thumbed the join between the sole and the upper, where Trevor knew it was splitting.

“I’ll fix those when I find a leather worker,” said Trevor.

Alucard put the boot down.

“I can procure clothing for you in the meantime,” said Alucard.

He reached up, and plucked a squarish bar from thin air, and handed it to Trevor.

“This is called hard soap. Use it to wash yourself,” he said.

“What’s in it?” asked Trevor, holding it away from him as if it would spontaneously combust.

“Perfume, olive oil, lye water,” said Alucard.

“Fancy.”

“I would have thought you had encountered soap before this.”

Trevor ran the bar over one wet arm, and grinned as it slicked onto his skin.

“Soft soap, yes,” he said.

The dirt was coming off like a dream. Already he felt fresher than before, and he rubbed some of the excess soap between his fingers. It was enough that he didn’t even mind that Alucard was still in the room, and had technically been criticising his cleanliness again.

“Thank you,” said Trevor.

He streaked it through his hair, and put the bar on the rim of the tub so he could get his fingers in deep. Once he was finished, he rinsed himself off, and stepped out of the tub. His clothes were still wet, but so was he, so it wouldn’t really matter if he put them on.

A piece of cloth, like the one Alucard had been using earlier, dropped over his head.

“Dry yourself.”

Trevor rolled his eyes. There was no point in arguing about it. Besides, the cloth was as soft as it had appeared, and he took his time to dry off. No sooner had he finished, the cloth vanished, and smoke ran over his arms and legs.

“I accepted the soap, the insults, the cloth, but that’s enough,” said Trevor, swiping at the smoke. “Time to knock off the tricks.”

“I said I would procure more clothes for you,” said Alucard.

Then the smoke surged up, and Trevor lost sight of the room for how thick it was. It wasn’t choking, rather, it felt like fabric wrapping around his limbs. It tightened, and he brought his hands up to discover they were bound in expensive, brown leather gloves. Up his arms was a cream-coloured greatcoat in a style he had never seen before, still forming on his body.

“Are you—are you dressing me?” said Trevor.

He tried to launch forwards, but couldn’t, legs seemingly frozen in place. Some part of his mind said that it was a good thing Alucard hadn’t tried this in their fight. No doubt the vampire was actually holding back, and the thought made Trevor even angrier than being dressed by someone else like some fucking nobleman.

A shirt, cut deep and showing off his neck and collarbones, something which Alucard no doubt found attractive, materialised under the new coat. His feet lifted momentarily, heeled boots forming over suspiciously familiar leather trousers, and the smoke dropped him with a soft ‘clack’ against the wooden floor.

“You almost look like a proper monster hunter,” said Alucard. “Maybe people will start taking you seriously.”

“You mean, start noticing that there’s a Belmont around,” Trevor hissed. “Need I remind you that the Belmonts aren’t exactly popular in this region. I was trying to stay _stealthy_.”

“No less popular than a Speaker, and a mysterious aristocratic swordsman,” said Alucard.

Trevor swallowed his anger. It was true. God, why was it always so easy to be caught in an argument with Alucard, and then be outclassed every time? He tugged at the shirt, doing up the buttons so his neck wasn’t so exposed, and left the room before he could resist the urge to toss Alucard out the window.

How had Alucard even made the clothes in the first place? It wasn’t exactly an ability he’d encountered in a vampire before. Sure, he’d seen Alucard reform torn clothing before, but he assumed it was only because the clothes were on Alucard. As Trevor walked, he reluctantly had to admit these were tailored immaculately.

“Trevor?”

Oh no. Fuck.

Sypha was in the middle of the stairwell, her head tilted in confusion. She had obviously finished her meal, and was heading upstairs to sleep.

“Not now, Sypha,” he said, brushing past her.

“Where did you get those clothes from?”

“Everyone’s favourite fanged fuckface,” he growled.

He kept moving. He needed to be anywhere but _here_. The coat swirled around the stairwell corner with a satisfying flick and snap of fabric behind him. This only infuriated Trevor more.

The other patrons in the tavern stared as he went past, flying out the door, and running until he reached the outskirts of the village they had stopped in. The sunlight was unusually bright, or so it felt after a week of overcast clouds and drizzly skies. At least the fucking vampire couldn’t follow him out here.

Beyond the edges of the village were some farms. Trevor walked for a bit longer, passing stone fences and crooked wooden-gates, finally coming to a stop next to a field with three cows and a herd of goats. With one easy swing, he was over the fence, seating himself comfortably to watch the animals graze. It was incredible they hadn’t been taken by the demon horde, but he supposed that Dracula was attacking the cities first.

The sun was nearing its zenith when he decided to turn back, tired from the journey and from the rage that was burning inside him. When he did, both Alucard and Sypha were asleep, although not deeply as Alucard’s eyes snapped open when Trevor entered.

“I did not recognise you for a moment,” said Alucard, sitting up.

The heat of those cat-yellow eyes rippled through Trevor as they slid down his body once, and then back to his face.

“Yes, I know, I’m a disgusting vampire hunter with poor taste in clothes and entirely too rancid for your liking. Enough. I’m going to bed,” snapped Trevor, although it was quieter for the sake of leaving Sypha asleep.

“On the contrary, I think your usual clothes are fine,” said Alucard.

“Then why give me these? Why not just let me be and wear what I like?”

“I was trying to be helpful. We are allies after all.”

Trevor rolled his eyes, and sat on his bed, struggling with the boots for a moment before giving up and flopping down. He was about to close his eyes when Alucard leaned over him.

Trevor jerked, startled. Alucard was the _worst_.

“Sleep well,” said Alucard, and then went back to his own bed.

“Unlikely,” muttered Trevor, but as soon as he had rolled to his side, sleep had taken him.

**Author's Note:**

> I had to look up the history of soap for this. Contrary to popular belief, people in Middle Ages Europe were actually quite clean, even though they didn't have baths/showers like we do. They had soft soap, and hard soap came a little later from the Middle East. I figured that Dracula and Lisa figured out how to make bars of soap.
> 
> The outfit Trevor is in was inspired by the costumes designed for him by Ayama Kojima.


End file.
